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MR.^INCOLN'S ADDRESS 

AT 

BLOODY BROOK. 



AN 



ADDRESS 

DELIVERED AT SOUTH DEERFIELD, 
AUGUST 31, 1838, 

ON THE COMPLETION OF THE 

BLOODY BROOK MONUMENT, 

E} 5;rTED IN MEMORY OF 

CAPT. LOTHROP AND HIS ASSOCIATES, 

WHO FELL AT THAT SPOT, 
«RPTEMBE R 18, (O. S,) 16 75. 



V 
BY LUTHER B. LINCOLN. 



>:" 



33uliUsl)etr fig a^eqtiest. 



'^'GREENFIELD: 

KNEELAND & EASTMAN, 



'^>b^V• 



GREENFIELD, MASS. 



ADDRESS. 



If there be any sentiment of universal acceptance 
with mankind, it is the memory of buried worth. 
Of all feelings this seems to command our highest 
respect and most unbounded sympathy. The 
world appreciates the admiration of departed vir- 
tue, and the grateful offering on the tomb of merit 
is considered as savory incense, in the sight of 
Heaven and earth. The jealousies of party, the 
antipathies of country, the prejudices of the age, 
the associations of limited esteem, here lose their 
influence ; and the worshipper, in freedom of 
spirit, pours forth his homage imrestrained. Who 
thinks of inquiring to what quarter of the universe 
the visiter at the grave of Howard owes his ori- 
gin, or in which of the thousand languages of the 
earth he utters his gratitude ? Who pauses to 
ask, whether the footstep at Vernon's Mound is 
made by an inhabitant of the Old or New World, 
ere he can measure the depth of feeling, or the 
soul's veneration .' It is sufficient, that an intel- 
ligent being, a lover of virtue, is there ; you know 
that his offering will be pure and fervent. Who 
dares to limit the admiration of an Eliot to his 
country's boundaries ? The dust of that devoted 
Indian apostle is dear to the world ; nor land, nor 
sea shall circumscribe the m-emory of his virtues. 
The truth of this sentiment, I believe, is not 
doubted. Indeed, it has been said, that living 
virtue commands universal respect ; that merit 
needs but be known to be admired. I would not 
combat the assertion. Yet it is certainly true, that 



4 

the veil of passion, in whicli the beholder's spirit 
is wrapped, is often so dark, that merit cannot be 
seen through it, and therefore genuine worth is 
unacknowledged, unadmired. It would seem to 
require the influence of another world — the sub- 
limity of the grave — the light of immortality — to 
break through this covering- of prejudice, and ar- 
ray the character of the noble one in its true dig- 
nity. When the " father of our country" was 
spending the vigor of life in freedom's cause, mid 
the toils of camp and horrors of war, the suffer- 
ings of body and sorrows of mind, straining nerve 
and sinew, as scarce ever did man before, in de- 
fence of human right, exercising, from day to 
day, an unparalleled prudence, and governed by 
a purity of purpose almost angelic, many an eye 
looked evil, and darted a jealous glance on that 
elevated virtue. But, when the " tabernacle of 
flesh" was taken down, ere dust had mingled 
with its kindred, the clouds which had hovered 
around that brow were dissipated. Friend and 
foe, citizen and stranger, united to support his 
bright reputation ; and his splendid fame and 
pre-eminent virtues commanded the admiration 
of mankind. 

In addition to the happy influence which anoth- 
er world reflects on the memory of departed 
worth, the lapse of time contributes, not a little, 
to heighten our respect and veneration. As in 
the vision of the poet, 

'"Tis distance lends enchantment to the view ," 

SO, in our contemplation of real worth, age seems 
to mellow the light that has been cast around the 
scenes of suffering and triumphant virtue, com- 
municating a richness — a. majestic serenity — 
which nothing else could impart. The sea-girt 
Isles of Greece, and the shores of the olden Tiber 
inay, indeed, be interesting as theatres of natural 



beauty, as the lands of skilful art and intellect 
refined, of taste and genius, of hero and of sage ; 
but how much has antiquity done to add glory to 
those scenes, and invest them with that peculiar 
interest which all the embellishment of modern 
times could not inspire ! The poets of latter days 
have been singing in strains of earthly and of 
heavenly music ; yet the trees have not come 
down from the mountain, to listen, as to the lyre 
of Orpheus. No second Helicon has been opened. 
Philosophy has lifted her honored head, clad in 
the purified vesture of civilization and refinement, 
and claiming for her pedestal, Christian morali- 
ty and truth ; yet, is she lauded to the skies, as 
in days of yore ? The enchantment of the Acad- 
emic Grove, the magic of the Grecian Portico is 
wanting — a structure, which we cannot rear. Mil- 
itary science, too, has kept pace with the march 
of the world. The earth has been the continued 
theatre of what is denominated warlike glory — 
courage, fortitude, patriotism ; but time only, 
with its wizard wand, can create a second Mara- 
thon, or model the crown, which sat on the brow 
of Leonidas. 

It is not, however, distant antiquity alone, 
which produces this effect. When comparatively 
few years have intervened, even those few leave 
their impress on the scene. Two centuries and 
some years only have elapsed, since our fathers 
were shivering on the rock of Plymouth ; yet, 
what a feeling of increased veneration comes over 
the visiter, when, standing on that memorable 
spot, he turns his eye to the fore-fathers' burying 
ground, where, for generations, has slept the last 
of the pilgrim band. It is a short antiquity, " that 
lends enchantment to the view," inspiring a sen- 
timent, breathed upon us by Deity's command, 
and not hi vain nor (hoiiirhtlesslv to be disturbed. 



6 

Such, fellow citizens and friends, are the influ- 
ences, which seem to mingle with our feelings in 
this commemorative scene. Events so full of 
consequence, revolutions so momentous have 
transpired, the aspect of nature has so changed, 
yea, all but the blue of heaven has so altered, as to 
make us feel, not only that a short, nay, long an- 
tiquity has intervened between the present hour 
and that of the bloody spectacle once presented 
here, but, that, in truth, we must be inhabitants 
of another world. 

Under these happy influences, beneath this 
beautiful canopy of our Father's power, these 
cheering beams of the emblem of His love, and 
amid the grateful offerings of His children, we 
come to dedicate this monument to departed 
worth. 

"Ye patriot dead, whose ashes lie 
Interred, beneath this smiling sky. 

To YOU THIS MONUMENT WE REAR, 

And memory sheds a grateful tear." 

The last breath of summer is departing ; her 
rose is fading ; but the " Flower of Essex" re- 
vives, in autumnal grace, to bloom forever. 

The origin of the act, in which we thus parti- 
cipate, I briefly describe in the language of that 
venerated citizen, who has, so happily, taken the 
white and the red man by the hand, and taught 
them to walk together as familiar acquaintances. 

" We assemble, my fellow citizens, to com- 
'memmorate an event, which occurred on this 
ground, on the 18th of September, 1675, (old 
style,) which, according to the Gregorian Cal- 
lendar, corresponds with the 30th of September. 

Capt. Thomas Lothrop was one of the early 
emigrants from England, who took up his resi- 
dence in Beverly, then a part of Salem, in the 
county of Essex. In the early part of Philip's wai% 



Lothrop was selected to take charge of a company 
of infantry, in the Massachusetts forces, and or- 
dered to the western frontier of the then prov- 
ince. The company was raised, or, as the histo- 
rian Hubbard expresses it, culled out of the 
towns in the county of Essex. At this time, the 
country, now embraced in the county of Worces- 
ter, was infested by the hostile Indians, and Lo- 
throp's company performed much hard service, 
at, and in the vicinity of Brookfield, and made 
extensive marches through the northern woods, 
in search of the enemy. When Philip, driven 
from that part of the country, fell back to the 
Connecticut river, and took up his quarters at, 
and about Northfield, Lothrop's company and 
Capt. Beers', another from the eastern part Qf the 
province, were ordered to Hadley, to protect the 
inhabitants in that quarter. 

In the expedition from Hadley to Deerfield, to 
bring off the stores in the latter place, Lothrop 
volunteered his services, and, on his return, fell 
into an ambuscade of seven hundred or eight 
hundred Indians, at that place, and was slain, 
with the principal part of his men. The details 
of this action, though but a faint picturfe of the 
horrid scene, may be found in the histories of 

Philip's war. 

Not long after the massacre of Lothrop's com- 
pany, our fathers, impelled by a laudable sympa- 
thy, erected a rude monument near the spot, to 
perpetuate the memory of the slain ; but time has 
delapidated it, and this slab is its only vestige. 

The recent discovery of the grave, and the 
erection of a new monument, will excite the sym- 
pathy of the traveller ; and the antiquary, while 
he shudders at the tragedy here acted, will find 
much to gratify his avidity, at this Bloody Brook. 

Long have the residents of this soil travelled 



over this hallowed spot, unconscious that they 
were treading on the graves of the fallen heroes. 
The story of the sufferers, though oft repeated by 
their fathers, had nearly lost its thrilling effect, 
and the peaceful aspect of the adjacent fields tells 
not, that once they were watered by the precious 
blood of brave men. New inquiries will now^ be 
excited, and future generations will point to this 
ground, and their children will know where their 
fathers bled to secure to them the rich boon they 
possess ; where the nightly howl of the wolf, the 
scream of the panther, and the yell of the red 
warrior pierced the ear from the dark-tangled 
woods, and the mother, with fearful hands, bar- 
red the door of her log hut, and clasped her little 
ones to her bosom, imploring protecting aid, 
which man could not interpose. 

From this day the heroes of Essex will be re- 
membered by all, ' who are not indifferent and 
unmoved, when conducted over ground that has 
been dignified by bravery and virtue.' " 

" ' Still, still as they sleep, freed from war's dread commotion. 

Their offspring, for ages, aromid them shall weep ; 
And the tears of their sons, as they kneel in devotion, 
Shall hallow the tm-f, where their fore-fathers sleep.' " 

To these patriotic sentiments I may add a brief 
description of the Monument. 

Its material, with the exception of the lower 
base, is the Berkshire clouded marble, cut from 
the quarry at Lanesboro, Mass. and brought to 
this place, in its rough state, to receive the form 
and polish of the artist. The structure rests up- 
on a mass of solid stone-work, sunk to the depth 
of six feet from the surface of the ground. This 
foundation supports the lower base of the pedes- 
tal — a block of Wendell granite, 6 ft. sq., 1 ft. 
thick, weighing 6200 pounds. Upon this rests a 
middle base of marble, 4 ft. 9 in. sq. and 9 in. 



third, up^r base, or plinth, 3 ft. 8 in. sq. and 6 
in. thick, weighing 1000 pounds, with a depres- 
sion in each side, 4 inches in depth and 12 inches 
in length. Upon this stands the die, or main part 
of the pedestal, containing the inscription, 4 ft. 6 
in. in height, 2 ft. 4 in. sq., weighing 4300 
pounds — a block of solid marble, supported, at the 
corners, by four columns, 8 in. wide, weighing 
300 pounds each. The pedestal is capped by 
a slab, or sur-base, 3 ft. 8 in. sq., 4 in. thick, 
weighing 600 pounds, with depressions similar to 
those in the plinth. Upon the sur-base rests the 
lower base of the column or shaft, 5 ft. sq., 8 in. 
thick, weighing 3200 pounds. This supports a 
middle base, 3 ft. 8 in. sq., 6 in. thick, weighing 
700 pounds ; and the latter a third, or upper base, 
2 ft. 6 in. sq., 4 in. thick, weighing 400 pounds, 
and surmounted by the shaft, or pyramidal spire, 
11 ft. in height, 2 ft. sq., at the bottom, 10 in. at 
the top, weighing 3150 pounds. The whole 
weight of the structure, therefore, above the 
foundation, is 25050 pounds ; its height, to the 
slope of the apex, 19 ft. 7 in., Avhich, added to 
the elevation of the mound, 3 ft. 9 in., makes the 
whole height 23 ft. 4 in. above the adjacent street. 

The expense of the monument (including $150 
paid for the ground) Avill be, I understand, about 
,5^700 ; a very frugal sum if we consider the worth 
of the sleepers, or the beauty of their memorial. 

On the lower part and south side of the col- 
umn, are inscribed these words : 

" This Monument erected August 1838." 

On the south side of the die is the following 
inscription, prepared by Gen. Hoyt. 

" On this ground Capt. Thomas Lothrop and 
eighty-four men under his command, including 
eighteen teamsters from Deerfield, conveying 
stores from that town to Hadley, were ambus- 



■••> 



10 

caded by about 700 rndians, and the Capt. and 
76 men were slain, Sept. 18, 1675, old style." 

" The soldiers who fell were described by a 
cotemporary historian, as a ' choice company of 
young men, the very flower of the county of Es- 
sex, none of whom were ashamed to meet the 
enemy in the gate.' " 

" And Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead 

Made the earth wet, and turned the unwilling waters red." 

• " The grave of the slain is marked by a stone 
slab, 21 rods southerly of this Monument." 

The second clause of the inscription was sug- 
gested by George T. Davis, Esq., of Greenfield ; 
the couplet, from Childe Harold, by the Rev. Mr. 
Fessenden of Deerfield. The passage, with the 
lines that precede it, reads very appropriately : 

" Far other scene is Thrasymene now ; 
Her lake a sheet of silver, and her plain 
Rent by no ravage, save the gentle plough ; 
Her aged trees lie thick as once the slain 
Lay where their roots are ; but a brook hath ta'en — 
A little rill of scanty stream and bed — 
A name of blood from that day's sanguine rain ; 
And Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead 
Made the earth wet, and turn'd the unwilling waters red." 

Canto IV. Stanza LXV. 

The monument was shaped by the hand of 
Mr. Martin Woods of Sunderland, Mass., whose 
correctness and skill have been exhibited, I am 
informed, to the entire satisfaction, and even 
praise, of the supervising Committee. To the 
zeal of this architect, also, one of that Committee 
observes, may be attributed, in a good degree, 
the existence of the structure. 

The model, conceived and fashioned by native 
ingenuity, was furnished by Mr. Hopkins Woods ; 
and was selected, I learn, from many beautiful 
designs, offered both by native artists, and for- 
eigners now resident in our own country — a 
pleasing tribute to the taste and talent of that 



11 

youthful spirit, which has imbibed its love of fair 
proportion, within sight of our own Sug-ar Loaf. 

The several gentlemen of the Committees, ap- 
pointed to superintend the erection of the 
Bloody Brook Monument, and especially, I am 
informed, those of the Building Committee, as- 
sisted by Gen. Hoyt, have been laboring inde- 
fatigably, since the early part of 1835, to com- 
plete this structure, as a tribute due to the 
memory of the dead. Together with all, who 
have contributed, or aided in this work, whether 
by money, labor or sj^mpathy, these gen- 
tlemen deserve the commendation, the thanks, 
the fervent gratitude of our common country ; 
and if, in this land, there be a heart, that with* 
holds its sympathy, let the spirits of the honored 
dead take note, that their deeds are not forgotten. 

Does any one here ask why not rebuild the old 
monument, and restore this memorial of our fa- 
thers to its former estate, hallowed, as it is, by an- 
tiquity .'' It is, indeed, ancient and A^enerable, and, 
we trust, will be preserved with all the respect 
due to the labors of our ancestors. But, the ex- 
istence of that olden slab precludes not the pro- 
priety or importance of the structure we now 
rear. Will you inform me, why it is, that the set- 
tler in a new country, after a few years of suc- 
cessful industry, leaves the old cabin, which had 
sheltered him in time of need, for the more finish- 
ed dwelling ? The log hut, it may be, was a com- 
fortable habitation ; its well-fitted joints and 
closely thatched roof protected its inmates ; the 
cheerful blaze curled in the rude chimney ; the 
merry accents of love resounded ; and all the 
heaven-born associations of home clustered around 
the plain abode. Why does the possessor wish 
to exchange it ? When the body of one we love 
is cold in death, why do we not commit the moul- 
dcrincr relics 1o a toneinent made of the roucrh ma- 



Hi 

terial, instead of the planed, painted, adorned re- 
ceptacle ? The former habitation would be equal- 
ly comfortable for the sleeper ; and the light of 
immortality would shine upon it, with equal 
brightness and glory. Why this expenditure of 
time and money ? Why does the God of Na- 
ture, when He wishes to perfume the air, so often 
shape the leaf in elegance, and pencil it in beau- 
ty, when an unadorned surface, perhaps, would 
diffuse equal fragrance ? The voice of gratitude 
and affection must answer, and that will tell, why 
this more elaborate, yet simple structure is rais- 
ed in the place of the ruder, yet not less Konora- 
ble memorial of our fathers. 

We would trust, that the inhabitants of this vil- 
lage and posterity will look on both these struc- 
tures with much and equal regard, and t^eel to- 
wards them, as Byron makes the Italian villagers 
toward the mansion and sepulchre of their favor- 
ite Petrarch : 

" They keep his dust in Argua, where he died ; 
and 'tis their pride-r- 



An honest pride — and let it be their praise, 
To offer to the passing stranger's gaze 
His mansion and his sepulchre ; both plain 
And venerably simple " 

What more, friends and citizens, shall I add ? 
Shall I, true to the letter of history, say, in the 
language of Drake, and Hubbard, as quoted by 
Drake : "It was a great oversight that Capt. 
Lothrop should have suffered his men to stroll 
about, while passing a dangerous defile ; ' many 
of the soldiers having been so foolish and secure 
as to put their arms in the carts, and step aside 
to gather grapes, which proved dear and deadly 
grapes to them. This was a black and fatal day, 
wherein there were eight persons made widows, 
and six and twenty children made fatherless, all 
in one little plantation, and in one day.' " 



13 

It was, undoubtedly, a great oversio-ht ; and so 
it was in the veteran Braddock : and so it has been, 
in the most renowned generals and distinguish- 
ed disciplinarians of Europe. Who is not guilty 
of this weakness ? Let the heart, unconscious of 
infirmity, deny us its sympathy, and the dead its 
grateful offering. It is true, also, that they were 
foolish and secure. This is human nature. Let 
him,*who is not so, approach this slab, and write 
upon it ' unworthy.' It was in the prosecution 
of a war, too, they fell, not, we fear, of self de- 
fence, but of extermination to the native. I have 
no faith nor sympathy in the justice of such a 
cause, believing, as I do, in the forcible language 
of another, " that it is, always, more righteous 
and honorable to comfort widows and orphans, 
than to make them, to save life than to kill, to 
cover the earth with knowledge, than to deluge 
it with blood." It is an awful thing — this reck- 
less mangling of the human body — and it pains 
my soul to feel, while standing on this spot, that, 
had another Penn, actuated by elevated moral 
principle and benevolence, been here, and influ- 
enced the destinies of this Commonwealth, not 
a leaf of the " Flower of Essex" might have been 
tarnished by a blood-drop. Let us not be unjust, 
my friends, to fallen greatness. How often do 
we learn from the cradle to contemplate the war- 
rior Philip, as savage in feeling and brutal in af- 
fection, as well as terrible in ferocity and deadly in 
revenge. But Philip was a noble chief. He fought 
and bled, in the defence of his kin and country ; 
in a war, which, I am compelled to believe, 
may be attributed to the white man's cupidity. 

" Philip," says George Bancroft, " was hurried 
into his rebellion, and he is reported to have wept, 
as he heard, that a white m^n's blood had been 
shed. He had kept his men about him, and had 
welcomed every stranger, and now, ag-ainst his 



14 

judgment and his will, he was involved in war. 
For what prospect had he of success ? Destiny 
had marked him and his tribe. The individual, 
growing giddy by danger, rushes, as it were, to 
his fate ; so did the Indians of New England. 
Frenzy prompted their rising. They rose with- 
out hope, and, therefore, fought without mercy. 
For them, as a nation, there was no to-morrow." 

" Would the tribes of New England permit the 
nation, that had first given a welcome to the Eng- 
lish, to perish unavenged ? Desolation extended 
along the whole frontier. Banished from his patri- 
mony, where the English found a friend, and from 
his cabin, which had sheltered the exiles, Philip, 
with his warriors, spread through the country, awa- 
kening their brethren to a war of extermination." 

Yes, I repeat, Philip was a noble chief — the 
king of a noble race — and we would not come up, 
to-day, with our sacrifice to the honored dead, 
forgetful of the Royal Tenant of Mount Hope. 

Thus, friends and citizens, having presented 
the dark side of the picture, I will reverse it, and 
then leave it for your contemplation. 

The inscription tells us that these men " were 
none of them afraid to meet the enemy in the 
gate." Verily, they were brave men, or this soil 
would never have been the theatre of such a 
scene ; nor would these encircling hills have ech- 
oed to the repeated discharge of the English gun. , 
They were eminently brave men, or they would 
have done as the soldiers of Braddock did, at the 
battle of the Monongahela, in 1756, when led in- 
to a similar ambuscade between two defiles of In- 
dians, concealed in the ravines on either side. 
" The troops," said Col. Washington, " broke 
and fled like wild bears from the wood." This 
was the instinct of h-umanity. They fled, be- 
cause impelled by terror — that sovereign pas- 
sion, which at times loosens the manly joints, and 



makes pale even the countenance of the Lr;ive. 
But, my friend?, physical courag-e, though in 
the estimation of the soldier, almost a passport 
to glory, is not, methinks, comparatively, a very 
elevated virtue. It is too much the creature of 
circumstance to be meritorious. Said one of Na- 
poleons's great officers j " I can face the cannon's 
mouth undaunted, but dare not confront my own 
feelings.' No, if physical bravery were the only 
sentiment here exhibited, feebler still would be 
our praise. The men, whose ashes here repose, 
were distinguished for one of the noblest traits 
of the human character — self-devotion to what 
they believed to be their country's good — a 
virtue, to which all ages have rendered homage. 
They were indeed self-devq^ed, or they would 
never have left their peaceful firesides, for the 
horrid alarms of this western frontier. They 
would never have turned from the silken crests 
of their waving fields, to the tangled wood of this 
frightful wilderness. They never could have 
burst from the tender arms, which clung around 
them in their beloved homes, to grapple the 
brawny sinew of the unsparing savage ; nor 
turned from the gentle accents of love to the ap- 
palling cries of wild revenge. Oh, thatiyell of dead- 
ly hate ! What was the sound ? for poesy says, 
" Those war-whoops ring in fancy's ear !" 
What likeness does fancy give ? What picture, 
think ye, she could alTord of that countenance, on 
which the venerated Williams was called to look 
when roused from slumber, on the memorable 
morn of the 1st of March, 1704 ? What concep- 
tion does fancy give to the peaceful bosoms be- 
fore me, of the awful sound, which chilled the 
blood around the mother's heart, as it " awoke 
the cries of the cradle ?" No more just idea, 
than the pleading of the infant gives of the agi- 
tating roar of the kinof of the forest. What pi(.- 



16 

tare does fancy present to these eyes, accustom- 
ed to the charms of cultivated nature, of that in- 
terminable wilderness, which, after enveloping 
the spot where we stand, in a gloomy swamp, ex- 
tended, on the one hand, to the farthest verge of 
the county of Worcester, and, on the other, to the 
waters of the Hudson ? with a few patches of In- 
dian tillage to interrupt the dismal waste, and the 
little village of Brookfield alone to mark the foot- 
step of civilization. When the placid stream of 
the Connecticut watered no hamlet upon its 
banks, between the almost forsaken town of Old 
Deerfield and the distant Canadas, save tlie de- 
serted settlement at Northfield. When the high- 
way, in which we stand, and which seems to us 
to have been here forever, formed a part of the 
dreary wild : and every green plat was the hab- 
itation of a forest tree ; and every tree concealed 
an Indian ; and every Indian's hand grasped a 
bloody weapon ; on every Indian's face was pic- 
tured the curse of the white man ; and in every 
Indian's bosom a flame was kindled, to be extin- 
guished only by the death of its victim. 

Such was the theatre, on which these fallen he- 
roes were called to act their dark tragedy. 
Friends and citizens, this is hallowed ground, 
and these are consecrated ashes. Patriotism — 
eminent patriotism was here ; and in behalf of 
this virtue, Ave claim your respect and sympathy. 
When yonder eminence shall be hurled from its 
base, let this structure, also, crumble. But, till 
then, let it stand, honored and admired. May no 
ruthless arm mar its proportions — no barbarous 
weapon rob a tittle of its surface — no unguarded 
finger soil its purity — but may even time, which 
is wont to move with so heavy footstep, here, as 
the " beautifier of the dead," leave a mark of 
veneration only, and tread gently on this simple 
Memento of the " Flower of Essex". 



COMMITTEES. 

The ses'-eral Coiimittees, appointed to superin- 
tend the concerns of the Bloody Brook Monu- 
ment, so far as I am informed, have been com- 
posed of the following gentlemen, from the five 
towns constituting Old Deerfield, in those ancient 
days of more generous, but, perhaps, unwieldy 
boundaries : Deerfield, including Bloody Brook, 
Greenfield, Gill, Conway and Shelburne. 

From Deerfield Street (to commence with 
the parent and proceed to the offspring) — Gen. 
Epaphras Hoyt, Consider Dickinson, Esq., Maj. 
Dennis Stebbins, Pliny Arms, Esq., Stephen W. 
Williams, M. D. 

Bloody Brook — Amos Russell, Esq., Stephen 
Whitney, Esq., Dennis Arms, Esq. 

Greenfield — Hon. George Grennell, Jr., Hon. 
James C. Alvord, George T. Davis, Esq. 

Conway — Gen. Asa Howland, Dr. Washington 
Hamilton. 

Gill — Col. Seth Howland, Isaac Chenery, Esq. 

Shelburne — Col. David Wells, Apollos Bar- 
nard, Esq. 

The Locating Committee — Gen. Epaphras 
Hoyt, Stephen W. Williams, M. D., Amos Rus- 
sell, Esq., Eli Cooley, Esq., Stephen Whitney, 
Ira Billings, Esq., Eli Cooley, Jr. Esq., James 
Whitney, Esq., George T. Davis, Esq. 

The Building Committee — Dr. Stephen W. 
Williams, Amos Russell, Esq., Stephen Whitney, 
Esq., George T. Davis, Esq. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

■ll. 

014 077 374 8 g 



